


Ties, Me to You

by itachitachi



Category: One Life to Live
Genre: M/M, Porn, Rimming, Tie Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-14
Updated: 2011-08-14
Packaged: 2017-10-22 14:48:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/239216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itachitachi/pseuds/itachitachi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So Oliver's a policeman. And he wears a tie. And, um, maybe he might like it a little when Kyle pulls on it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ties, Me to You

**Author's Note:**

> I was in OLTL fandom for a few weeks, and my biggest contribution was tie!kink rimming porn. It's not even my fault, I swear.

"Hey," Kyle says once as Oliver's leaving for work, and Oliver turns to meet him but they're a little too far apart. Kyle reaches a hand out and tugs on the end of his tie, just a little, in that teasing way he has with the smile in the corner of his eyes, and Oliver follows the pull easily.

Maybe he moves a bit faster than he'd meant to when he does. And perhaps the kiss goes on a little longer than he intends, and perhaps the tiny noise he makes into it is more than a little involuntary, but he has work. He pulls away, fingers stroking along Kyle's jaw, and Kyle lets him go.

He doesn't forget, though.

It gets to be that whenever they're kissing and Oliver's still in his uniform (something that happens almost ridiculously often), Kyle's fingers are running down his chest and tracing along the length of his tie, or curling under his collar at the back and hooking into the loop around his neck. It's not a constricting fit, really, but the feel of it still manages to make Oliver's breath go tight every time. Like when Kyle's hooking just a thumb in, pulling him back so he can watch Oliver pant or lick his lips or--whatever it is that he's doing that Kyle finds so sexy, because it's never more than a second before Kyle swoops in for more, harder, thumbs curled in tight.

That's how Kyle leaves him, that morning. Oliver thinks about it all day, an itch in the back of his mind, and on one of his breaks he goes into the bathroom and locks himself in a stall, taking a moment to lean his head against the cool metal of the wall. He tightens his tie a little bit, but the chafe around his neck isn't what he wants; he fists his hand around the end of the tie and tugs, but that isn't it either.

So he texts Kyle instead: _i miss you_. And he gets one back, just the simple: _home soon_.

It re-energizes him a bit. He gets back to work and he can concentrate; Layla flashes him smiles that look a little bit relieved. He gets into his paperwork and has a meeting with McBain. Time stops dragging and things go smoothly, but at the end of the day he's still clocking out on the dot, as soon as he can, and where he usually loosens his tie some as soon as he leaves HQ, tonight he doesn't.

When he gets home--not his place, but home nonetheless--Kyle's lying sprawled on the bed with his eyes closed. He's taken off the button-down he'd had on that morning and is in just his undershirt and his jeans, riding low. He's all skin and hard lines against the rumpled softness of the sheets, and Oliver bites his lip because he's gorgeous and beautiful and he looks completely, totally exhausted.

"You okay?" Oliver asks, shrugging out of his jacket and tossing it on the table with Kyle's. "Bad day?"

"Not bad, just busy," Kyle hums, opening his eyes and rolling over a little to watch Oliver unload his bag. "You? Solve many mysteries? Catch many crooks?"

"Nah, same old," Oliver says, shaking his head, and goes to loosen his tie because clearly this isn't going anywhere. Not tonight. And that's okay, because god knows things aren't always perfect, but there are always going to be other nights and there's no reason to--

"Hey, wait," Kyle says, shifting a little more, and Oliver's hands stop moving at his throat because that's Kyle's low voice. When he looks over, Kyle's raised his head and is beckoning him over, just a tilt of the chin. "Come here," he says, husky.

For a second Oliver's tempted to loosen his tie a little anyway, just to see what Kyle would do. He thinks Kyle sees it in him though, what with how his lips are curling, so Oliver tells himself _next time_ , and lets his hands fall.

"You need something?" he asks, watching closely. Kyle's eyes track him as he makes his way to the side of the bed; it makes something dark and familiar settle in his stomach.

"Maybe," Kyle says agreeably. "Or maybe you do."

Kyle doesn't even have to move, just stretch his arm up, and he has Oliver by the length of his tie. Oliver breathes a bit sharply when Kyle first pulls, but it's not because it's a sharp thing. Kyle doesn't jerk him in; he reels him close, slow and steady, and by the time Oliver's bent down near enough to kiss, hands braced in the sheets on either side of Kyle's head and tie still taut between them, he's panting as if he's run a mile and Kyle's eyes are dark and knowing.

It's only when Kyle tangles the fingers of his other hand in the knot of Oliver's tie, knuckles brushing against his throat, that Oliver breaks and kisses him. He can't help it by then, and the kiss is hard and wet and something he's been wanting for so, so long. If he groans into it--groans, not whimpers--and Kyle's reaction is to moan a little back and tug him all the way down flat onto him, crushing and hot, well, that's only fair.

Except--

"You're," Oliver breathes between the short, biting kisses they're sharing now, "aren't you, oh--aren't you tired?"

Kyle laughs a little into his mouth, and says, "only you, Oliver Fish," but Oliver gasps and pulls back and breathes into Kyle's cheek, "I'm serious. You look really tired, and I don't want to--"

"Right, well, I guess that means you're volunteering to do all the work," Kyle says, raising an eyebrow. He curls his fingers harder in Oliver's collar, against the half-Windsor knot that's probably going to have to be retied in the morning, and says, "Get me out of these jeans."

Oliver swallows, feeling his Adam's apple bob and press against Kyle's knuckles. "Yeah," he says. "Yeah, um, that sounds--" and he's fumbling down: belt buckle, buttons, zip. When he gets his hand inside, Kyle pulls in a sharp breath and jerks a bit at Oliver's tie. Accidentally, Oliver thinks, which just makes him dip and catch Kyle's mouth in another deep kiss. Kyle gasps into it in time with the pull of Oliver's hand on his cock, and it's a heady sound.

Finally Kyle drags Oliver's mouth away. "Later," he insists, panting, "later. There's time for it. Come on, off with the jeans." Oliver babbles something--protests maybe, even pleading, either way incoherent--but the way Kyle twists his hands makes him shut up fast enough.

Sighing, he hooks his hands in the waist of Kyle's jeans and pulls them down his hips, boxers too, and suppresses his groan when Kyle arches obscenely to allow them to slide down to his thighs. Oliver moves back slowly, inching the denim down Kyle's knees, his calves, and Kyle gives him slack to do it, tie slipping through his fingers, though when it gets to the end he wraps it once around his hand and doesn't let go.

When Oliver finally tugs the pants all the way off, around the bend of Kyle's ankles and straight onto the floor, he sits close and breathes shakily, the tie still restricting his distance. Kyle's watching him, eyes shadowed, and the whole of him is on display, bare except for the thin, clinging fabric of his undershirt. Oliver trails his fingers up under the cotton, rubbing at the skin of Kyle's stomach, until Kyle shakes his head and whispers, "You've still got your uniform on."

"You don't want me to keep it on?" Oliver mutters, because he knows how Kyle is, but goes for his buttons anyway.

Kyle grins. "Later," he says. "Right now I want it off."

Except then he tightens the slack on Oliver's tie and his grin goes a little dirtier, saying clearly _but not this. You keep this on._ Oliver shivers.

It's after Oliver's stripped away his shoes and socks, and his pants, and has just fumbled with freeing his collar from the tie as he pulls his shirt off that Kyle says, "Much better," and rolls languidly onto his stomach. The move pulls hard at Oliver's tie and he's forced down to the bed, knees sliding, practically on top of Kyle. Which was probably the point, actually, Oliver thinks--and when Kyle tugs Oliver around a bit until their mouths meet, decides he was right.

He settles in like a blanket, chest sliding along Kyle's back, his hips and cock pressing against the curve of Kyle's ass as he opens to the kiss. Kyle hums into his mouth, slipping his tongue in and tightening his grip on Oliver's tie as he rocks back against his cock. Oliver groans as he does, fingers digging into Kyle's hips.

Most everything they've done so far has been face-to-face, so pressing up against him like this, back to front, is strange and more than a little thrilling. Kyle keeps rocking under him and kissing him, biting at Oliver's lips and wrestling with the undershirt he's still wearing. Oliver muffles his own noises as best he can, sucking at Kyle's lip and trailing his fingers up his sides, and helps, dragging the undershirt up little by little to better feel the line of Kyle's spine, the muscles of his back moving under skin. The kiss breaks then, as Kyle pulls the shirt off and tosses it to the side, always keeping Oliver's tie held tight in one hand or the other--he doesn't seem to want to let go, and it makes something burn in Oliver's chest.

He leans back in for another kiss, but Kyle turns his face down into the sheets and slackens his grip on the tie, pressing something into Oliver's hand. It's the lube that's usually in the side table drawer, and Oliver blinks, has to stop and breathe through his nose for a second, because Kyle's a sneaky bastard who lies in wait, half-naked on the bed with lube hidden in the sheets, for his boyfriend to get home, and Oliver really, really fucking loves him.

"So? What are you waiting for?" Kyle asks, words muffled in the mattress. He presses back impatiently one more time, spreading his legs a little to make room. Oliver says, "Nothing, nothing," breathless, and just slides down as far as he can. Kyle's hand holding the tie drags lower down the bed with him to grant him better reach, but pulls up a little shorter than Oliver likes, making his breath hitch. He doesn't complain, though, just kisses sweetly at the dip of Kyle's spine as he uncaps the bottle, and when he's got his finger slicked and lined up, rubbing gently but not pressing, he bites sharply at Kyle's back. Kyle swears and his hips jerk, and so does his grip on the tie, and that's when Oliver slides his finger smoothly in.

The involuntary sound Kyle makes at that is incredible, and so is the way his body shudders. "Christ, Oliver," he says, giving a bit more slack with the tie. Oliver hums and kisses a little lower now, pressing his finger in farther and drawing it slowly back, waiting to add the second. He keeps flicking his eyes up the naked stretch of Kyle's back, watching intently as it trembles and lifts with every breath.

Finally Kyle makes a noise and gives Oliver's tie an impatient pull, so Oliver sighs into his skin and adds another finger, speeding the pace a little. He scrapes his teeth over the crack between Kyle's cheeks--just the top of it, where he can reach--and that makes Kyle shudder harder than anything, so Oliver licks a little too, curious, and edges in a third finger.

Kyle's panting farther up the bed; he's tilted his head to the side and is muttering things like "god, Oliver," and "fucking--harder, like that" and "come on, more" just under his breath. Oliver keeps licking, bolder with every short swipe, tasting sweat and skin. He twists his fingers, searching for that spot until Kyle finally cuts off with a groan, and slides his hand holding the tie all the way to his hip to basically give Oliver free rein. Oliver sighs gratefully because it's _about time_ , and licks slowly down Kyle's crack in one smooth motion, nearly all the way to where his fingers are pushing in, before pulling his mouth back.

He watches his fingers: the way they press, smooth, into Kyle, as far as they can get, and the way Kyle's body clings to him when he has to pull them back out. The rim of him, stretched and tight as Oliver twists his fingers, and the way his muscles all clench when Oliver hits that spot just right. Kyle lets him watch for a moment, but then he tightens Oliver's slack just a little bit and whispers, low, "Use your mouth."

Oliver blinks up at him, but Kyle's not looking down; his eyes are closed and he's licking his lips, hand fisted in the sheets and back shining with sweat. Oliver shivers and glances back down, at his three fingers still sliding steadily in and out, and feels his heart race as he hesitantly dips his head.

He bites carefully first, at the sensitive back of Kyle's thigh where it meets his ass, and Kyle curses breathlessly as he works his way inward. A lick, hard, behind his balls and Kyle's nearly jerking off the bed entirely. Then Oliver kisses his way up, slow, pressing in his fingers as far in as he can and then, oh god, tracing gently around them with his tongue. Kyle moans freely into the mattress, so Oliver does it again, and again as he pulls his fingers slowly out. Then, when it's just the narrower tips of his fingers inside, he pulls one of Kyle's cheeks slowly to the side and presses his tongue carefully in.

"Fuck," Kyle says, his free hand tearing away from the sheets to hold at the nape of Oliver's neck. It's gentle, Oliver doesn't feel pressed in or anything, but he feels the way Kyle's fingers are trembling, and licks his way in a bit farther. Kyle moans and Oliver wants to moan too because god, this is so--but he's got his tongue sticking out and--well. He pulls back, licking around again as he shifts his fingertips in a slow circle, stretching, and then thrusts his fingers in again. Kyle gives a stuttering groan at that, and that's just--

"Kyle, please," Oliver breathes, pulling back and shifting up to kiss the small of his back over and over, openmouthed. "I just want to--please--"

Oliver can feel the way Kyle's breath hitches just before Kyle drags him back up the bed. "Yeah," he says. "Yeah, god, you can." He turns his face up and tugs Oliver in tightly, the tie taut as a wire between them. Oliver tries to pull back but Kyle doesn't let him, leans impatiently forward and presses a lingering kiss to Oliver's lips.

Oliver's tense through it, doesn't open his mouth, but soon enough Kyle pushes him back a little and rolls his eyes pointedly. "I guarantee you, your mouth tastes a hell of a lot worse in the mornings than it possibly could right now," he says. Oliver scowls, and Kyle takes advantage of his moment off guard to kiss him again, properly this time. And it's not really all that different--it maybe tastes kind of like lube, if anything--so Oliver relaxes and kisses back and, tentatively, slides his fingers back in, twisting and stretching and pressing their way inside.

"Mmm, I don't need more of that," Kyle mumbles into his mouth, and his other hand goes rummaging around in the sheets some more before he finally turns up with a condom. Oliver laughs and takes it, and then Kyle turns away with a little smile so Oliver settles for kissing at his shoulder.

The first press in is--yes. Oliver breathes carefully, adjusting to the feel of it as he slides in, so slowly. But then Kyle jerks at him and he takes the hint, gasping as he thrusts in fast and Kyle shudders beneath him. Kyle takes control of the pace like that, demanding, and Oliver follows him because he can't do anything else. There's only just the barest amount of slack in the tie; Oliver drops his forehead to Kyle's shoulder and pants into his skin as he moves. Kyle's groaning, tugging fiercely, harder and harder on Oliver's tie and shifting back and forth in a way that--oh god, he's fucking grinding against the mattress, Oliver realizes, and a wave of heat rolls over him even as he scrambles to get a hand under there.

When he finally manages to curl a hand around Kyle's cock, Kyle jerks and gasps like he hasn't been expecting it, clenching in a way that nearly drops Oliver off the edge. He staves it off and tries to jerk him for a minute or two but it's cramped and awkward, so he thinks, fuck it, and wraps his whole arm around Kyle's waist to lift his hips up off the mattress, just enough to make some room.

Kyle says, "Holy shit, Oliver," and gets his knees underneath himself to hold the lift, and it's so fucking good, deeper now, Oliver's hand tight on Kyle's cock and Kyle's shoulder sweaty and hot under Oliver's mouth. And then the tie around Oliver's neck, pulling hard, the knot bumping against his chin as Kyle gasps and stutters back and comes on the next thrust, on the upstroke, comes all over the sheets and the back of Oliver's wrist, shuddering and gasping and so fucking tight around Oliver's cock that he sees stars and black and white and, fuck, that's it for him, he's gone.

When he opens his eyes again, ages later, Kyle has shifted a little of the way out from under him. He's holding Oliver's hand, their fingers intertwined, and pressing it to his mouth, kissing slowly--and looking across at Oliver in that way he has sometimes, like he can't quite believe that Oliver's right there next to him--or on top of him, as the case may be.

"Sorry," Oliver murmurs, rolling the rest of the way off. He tries not to dislodge his hand but Kyle lets go of him without prompting and moves his own fingers up to the knot of Oliver's tie, messy but still in place around his neck.

"What for?" Kyle asks. He loosens the knot.

Oliver breathes slowly as Kyle's fingers trace under the loop of the tie, back and forth along his collarbone, and says, "Nothing, I guess."


End file.
